My wife and I took a short babymoon to the beach this weekend as a last hurrah before the sprout arrives. It was nothing extravagant or overly active, but a nice break from the wound-up norm of baby room prep and baby product research.
Everything was booked solid and we were lucky to get a room, but my wife and I ended up in a room with two double beds instead of a king or the queen that we have at home. As I was laying there this morning looking across at her pregnant outline sleeping in the bed next to me I wanted to climb in next to her and hold her and rub her belly. Granted she was only a few feet away, but I wanted to be next to her. Laying there I realized that as my wife has gotten progressively more pregnant that I have become more attached and protective of her. She may have gotten clingy, but I have to; I don't like being away from her at all.
Don't get me wrong, it was great not to be woken a half dozen times a night when she gets up to pee. There is actually something endearing about the manner in which she gets her decreasingly mobile frame out of bed, ensuring I have six hours of regularly-interrupted sleep every night. The commotion of her flopping around as she tries to get out of bed makes me feel like I'm sleeping next to a marlin fighting a fisherman's line. However, as the sport fish to which I'm married leaves the room, I know I won't be able to get back to sleep until she gets back. I have to check on her, even if just with a quick "you ok?" She always is, but I have to ask.
It's part of the whole process and I want to go through it with her. I wish I didn't have to trudge off to work every morning and could spend the day with her, but I do, that's my reality. That's why the babymoon is nice, it gives you both a little time together. But until such a time that I can spend all my time with her, I'm going to cling to that pregnant woman and let her know how much I love her.